Far from the political clamor of language debates, thousands of immigrants tackle the task of learning French every day in Quebec. The duty invites himself into a French class throughout the session. Today is our third foray, and the students open up about the difficulties of the migratory journey.
Michel Usereau, an experienced teacher, passes between the desks, moving: “I am your dictionary. No Google Translate, no dictionary! »
We are already in the sixth week of this French course, and everything must happen in French within these four walls. The fifteen students row to absorb all the vocabulary related to clothing.
” What is the weather like ? » takes on its full meaning as around 30 centimeters of heavy and sticky snow have just fallen on the metropolis. “It’s really cold. I think -30 degrees,” says Mehrnoush. His compatriot Sharyar, also from Iran, tries his hand at weather daring: “I’m just wearing two sweaters, no coat,” he says with a laugh.
You need to know where students were starting from to fully measure their progress. During the first pass of the Duty in this class, several of them had almost zero knowledge of French. The sentences had lengthened wonderfully by the fourth week, and today, the students gained with ease.
The habits of the language suit them better and better, but there are still many hesitations. How can we explain that the verb “aller” loses almost all of its letters when conjugated and becomes “je vas”, or “j’vas” in its more relaxed oral version? How do I know why the “c” in “second” should sound like a “g” instead? And finally, how can we be sure that “no worse” leans towards the desired side depending on the intonation? “It’s really not worse” is very different from “meh, it’s not worse”, after all.
This kind of fantasy, however, does not seem to put off any of the students on this chilly early morning. They also work to ask one of the most interesting questions, regardless of language: “Why?” »
The challenges of arrival
He may be the shyest of all the students, by his own admission, but he develops quickly and his sentences are already flexible. Aaron Lwaba, 23, arrived “all alone” from Zambia two years ago, in the middle of winter. Life here, for him, has so far been “very, very different” from his life in Africa, he says. And to further break down the ambient individualism and “every man for himself” that he perceives among his university friends, he “needs French to communicate”, he relates.
He comes from a country at the confluence of many cultures, landlocked between Angola, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Malawi, Tanzania and the Democratic Republic of Congo. This is partly what explains why he speaks “almost” five languages – and soon six, with French. His father, of Congolese origin, was a French teacher at secondary school, but “I gave up the course because I didn’t need it”, summarizes Aaron, a little ashamed. “But it’s not too late,” he adds, confident in the future.
Like him, his friend Zeinab Javid studies French during the day and goes to university in the evening. The graduate student is relieved to have recently passed her doctoral exam in information technology. Her husband, originally from Iran like her, also studies at the École de Technologie Supérieure, in construction engineering. His sentences are shaky, but understandable: “Every week… here, about 30 hours. And, for the doctorate, I write my article. It’s different, about 40 hours for the doctorate. But I write my article in the evening. »It’s a bit like having two full-time jobs, she whispers, overwhelmed, but smiling.
More than other university students, Zeinab and Aaron do not have the right to fail: their immigration status depends on their academic success. The young Zambian’s family is counting on him, he confirms. He hopes to be able to do business outside of Montreal after his baccalaureate and French courses: “I like Quebec a lot, and then I like the villages near Montreal. This is my plan, to live in a village there. »
His plan is clearly to become a permanent resident: then, and only then, will he return to visit his family in Zambia. But unlike the diplomas obtained by newcomers who have studied in Frenchhis bachelor’s degree from Concordia University will not allow him to take the fast track to settle permanently in Quebec.
Frustrations, worries
Their classmate Jade Li is more discreet, but she does not hide the fact that professional integration is not easy. She was a human resources director in a multinational company, and from China, her country of origin, she traveled all over Southeast Asia. “Integration is difficult, even if it is an open country,” she managed to articulate. Her expertise is so advanced that she has already been told she is overqualified for certain jobs. “I really want to establish myself here, to be part of the company. Obviously I want a job and contribute, but there are a lot of barriers. It’s a waste,” she explains, this time in English.
She talks about the Chinese culture of hard work and her 14-year-old son, who is not yet in Montreal because of his school year starting elsewhere. When she began the immigration process as an investor, he was only 5 years old, and she hoped he would start school in Canada. “But it took nine years before I got permanent residency, and everything changed. »
Back in class, it’s Melisa’s turn, of Chilean origin, to worry about her family. “Do you know how many more days the strike will last? » she asks the journalist from Duty. Her 13-year-old daughter is home alone while waiting for classes to start again. “We don’t know many people here, and I worry about her,” says the mother.